


Not a Sexual Creature

by hexbreeder



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Crying, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Kinkmeme, M/M, Newt whump, Sexual Coercion, Wetting, Whump, fear of sex, genophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-07 02:11:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8779048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexbreeder/pseuds/hexbreeder
Summary: Newt is happy to finally be getting somewhere in a relationship. However, he's not looking forward to admitting he has a fear of sex. Percival is understanding. Grindelwald however, intends to use this information to exploit Newt in the harshest way possible.For the kinkmeme prompt -Grindelwald/Genophobic Newt. Genophobia: the physical or psychological fear of sexual relations or sexual intercourse. Non-con.





	1. Genophobia

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt can be found here http://fantasticbeasts-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/459.html?thread=64203#cmt64203
> 
> What can I say, I saw a lot of potential for Newt whump.... and I can see a plausibility in this phobia.
> 
> I tried to fix up mistakes I made in the kinkmeme, but it's not perfect. If anyone feels like being friends and doing future beta readings, hit me up! 
> 
> Chapter 2 is posted in the kinkmeme but I haven't touched it up yet

Newt met Percival Graves at a Christmas party. It was strange to see the strange mix of powerful people at such a party, including the accomplished Auror Percival Graves and Newt’s War Hero of a brother Theseus who had insisted he come. Sensing chemistry and being ever courageous and commanding in all the ways Newt was not, Theseus later insisted the three of them visit a restaurant together. Thesues conveniently was unable to make it last minute. When Newt got carried away discussing the magical creature many muggles refer to as 'Krampus' instead of becoming annoyed as many do, Percival listened with a charmed smile. It made Newt buzz with content and fluster pleasantly when asked to continue their exchange via letters.

Both men were exceptionally busy people who often traveled. This made for a relationship built primary on letters, which Newt couldn’t be more grateful for. He’s a nurturer, a lover, a romantic in his soul; but something about the physical part of intimacy that everyone seemed to take to so naturally had always made him panic.

They had been together for nearly an entire blissful year before Newt finally had to come clean. They were both in France for business, but miraculously had time to stay an extra day or two. It was convenient, perfect, fate – the more gratuitously romantic than usual parts of Percival’s letter said so. They would get a room at a nice hotel and Percival would as he put it . . . _finally be able to touch you in all the ways I’ve dreamed. I want to make you feel so good. . ._ Newt didn’t register how bad his hand was trembling reading the letter until he heard the rattling of the paper in his hand and Pickett’s frantic cooing.

Guilt washed over him. He had tried so hard to steer clear of the subject for so long, telling himself it simply wasn’t necessary. Romance shouldn’t rely on sex. But reading the letter, it dawned on him with horror he how selfish he had been.  Perhaps sex wasn’t important to Newt, but some people need it. Some creatures are sexual, some are not. The difference here being creatures are not capable of lying about this fact. By not telling Percival Newt had essentially been lying. It was incredibly unfair to Percival. He should have never fallen in love.

When he opens the hotel room door and sees the happiness on Percival’s face he simply can’t do it. Not immediately.

 “I’m so glad you’re here,” Percival says with passion he never allows others to hear as he engulfs Newt in a flushed embrace that lasts only a second too long for comfort.

“I’m glad too.” He says breathless despite himself.

Newt tries to ease the evening’s activities elsewhere he really does. He hopes the promises the letter made were symbolic. His half-hearted efforts fail however and they still wind up on the luxurious sofa with Percival hovering over him. He knows it’s dangerous, but he’s going to try. He’s never really _truly_ tried to just stick it out in the past. He’s never let anyone this close, never loved anyone enough to try. He’s never been so afraid of feeling loneliness again.

So far the way Percival is embracing him is not too invasive. His hands are still and around his waist. Newt tells himself it’s much like a normal hug, only in a new position. He tells himself this about the kisses too, which so far Newt seems to have kept at bay as very slow soft closed mouth touches. He wishes instead of this they could be having the conversations like they have in their letters. Maybe if he focuses on their happy exchanges in the past he could get through this.

But then he feels it. Something unmistakably hard and _big_ is pressing down into him up against the inner thigh of his trousers maneuvering upward into his soft groin. He doesn’t want to think about what that thing _is_ exactly or more specifically why it’s hard and why it’s on him.

Newt whimpers into the kiss and his hands clutch the back of Percival’s shirt so tightly his knuckles turn white. Percival can feel the scratch of Newt’s nails and drinks in his whine, both of which he takes as signs of encouragement. Even the tremble feels like a symptom of arousal in his state. After all, he’s trembling too with nerves, raw energy, and arousal. Newt was about to turn from the kiss and tap out when Percival passionately begins deepening the kiss, easily working his tongue past gasping lips, and grinds Newt into the cushions with his hard length indulgently.

The phobia he tried to neglect surfaces with vengeance.

Newt is breathing quickly and shallowly through his nose. He feels like he’s not getting any oxygen and he’s dimly aware he’s beginning to hyperventilate. Although Percival is between his legs and has him rather thoroughly pinned with his embrace, Newt thrashes all limbs to the side of the couch towards freedom.

Percival gets the message rather quickly after that. He lifts his body swiftly, alarm in his eyes. Newt immediately hangs half way off the couch and so Percival quickly untangles their limbs so that Newt can successfully bring his body fully to the floor.

The fear is so pronounced now that he’s barely fending off to urge to vomit.

Percival stares helplessly at Newt hyperventilating on the ground, too afraid of getting close, “Newt…? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? God I’m so sorry.”

 If he weren’t on the verge of tears before, it was the devastation in Percival’s apology that did it. How could he let it get this far? All wanted so badly to give this to Percival, but he failed.

And now tears are dripping, his nose and cheeks reddening, and still can’t get his breathing under control, “N-no, it’s….ah….my fault, m-my fault.”

Moments pass and Newt is grateful Percival is allowing him silence and time to get his breathing and his hindered sobs under control. He’s more embarrassed than he’s ever been in his life. On his hands and knees he stares pointedly at the carpet until he calms down enough to face his lover.

Unsure what to do while waiting, Percival awkwardly offers “Want me to make you some tea?” he’s not much for the stuff but he keeps the kind that Newt likes. Newt nods.

When Percival returns, Newt is sitting stiffly on the sofa with his coat back on and his arms lightly wrapped around his middle. The bowtruckle is softly chirping at him. When it sees Percival it sinks away to where it cannot be seen as it pointedly glares and growls at him. Newt mutters what sounds like a scold to it. Percival still feels like a monster.

Percival sits next to him very cautiously, careful not to touch. Newt won’t look at him even when he hands him the tea. He cradles the cup and the warmth seems to calm the lingering shake of his hands.

“There’s something I should have told you a long time ago” Newt says to the tea cup.

 “I want you to be able to tell me anything, Newt” Percival says carefully. Newt looks to him for a moment guiltily.

“I am not….a sexual creature.” Newt half mumbles. “I don’t know how to even begin explaining _why._ I have always simply been rather pathetically terrified at the prospect. It’s not you, please know I love you.” His reddened eyes begin to water again, “I understand that this isn’t what one wants or expect in a relationship. I am sorry for wasting your time, Percival. I understand if you no longer want me.”

Percival’s breath hitches. He looks at Newt with such intensity it nearly burns, “Newt. You could never waste my time. It’s alright that you feel this way. It doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”

Newt faces him with such genuine surprise and joy that it breaks his heart a little. This must have been weighing him so hard. They spend the rest of the night simply holding hands while having conversations much like their letters. 


	2. Intimate Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEED THE WARNINGS for this one. The tags really kick in this chapter: rape, emotional manipulation, acute panic attack, wetting, fainting…Compared to the relative sweetness of the last chapter it might be quite a shock. Sadness abound. Remember the prompt I’m rolling with involves extreme genophobia and non-con.
> 
> That being said, I think I might owe an apology to those of you who have said this specific subject is important to you? If you were content with an acceptance and love fic, venture no further. Gellert is about to exploit the fuck out of Newt’s condition, and the hurt/comfort will not come in until later. Gellert’s already Magic Hitler but I’m gonna make him even him even more evil.
> 
> Also know that Newt is definitely suspicious something’s off about Percival, but he’s too overwhelmed by fear and guilt to see the truth (for now).

Although Percival says it’s okay for Newt to be the way he is and doesn’t press the matter further, Newt decides to put the constant thoughts of his studies on hold to instead examine himself a little. It’s uncomfortable territory.

He wonders why he’s like this. While other people have phobias about spiders and snakes, he has to have a sex phobia. Although truth be told, he wouldn’t trade it for a spider or snake phobia, they’re much too precious.

 He has never once had an issue when it came to the mating habits and breeding of animals. Personal displays of affection in humans had never bothered him either, he generally thought they were sweet. When he reads up all content on beasts available to him, he even sometimes reads romantic novels for pleasure. He enjoys getting caught up in the romance and doesn’t even skip the sexual scenes; they’re often an important part of the love and romance as well. A thought that made him sad when he compared it to his own life.

On an extremely rare occasion or two throughout his life he’s even found himself in the right mindset to masturbate. It’s a completely out of body experience, a distant focus on relief detached from thoughts of sex, himself, or other people. And after he always found himself feeling dirty and fighting off irrational panic.

When Newt imagines doing those things with another person he can’t feel anything but repulsion and anxiety. He wishes he knew why. He once read in article about similar symptoms in rape survivors. But he had no right to those feelings, having never experienced such an unimaginably awful thing. ‘Unless,’ a voice said in the back of his mind ‘you’ve buried it so deep you can’t remember.’ Newt grits his teeth and forces the ridiculous thought away.

The important thing is the person he is in fact romantically involved with accepts him. Unfortunately, the last letter he received from Percival before going to New York for the first time is rather short and mostly only mentions that he is caught up in an important investigation and will have a difficult time writing or meeting up for quite some time. The writing is messier than usual as well, which Newt has learned to sense as distress. Although it’s nothing too unusual it makes him a bit nervous. Still, he’s eager to visit Percival in New York, if only very briefly due to both of their busy obligations.

But then the madness with the suitcase ensues.

Their reunion is not as he imagined in the least. It’s an ominously silent chained walk to Percival’s office for a private interrogation, with the entirety of MUCASA suspecting his one of his beasts killed that muggle.

When they’re finally alone Newt suspects Percival will drop the cold act. He will acknowledge that they know each other, that they have love for each other. There’s no one here to judge them now, no one to excuse Percival of going easy on Newt. The door is locked and muffled with a few charms.

Newt wants a hug; Percival doesn’t even offer a smile. He at least receives the courtesy of having the chains removed.

“I’ve missed you.” He tries. When it doesn’t earn a response, he bows his head in shame. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you here. But,” Scared to death for his animals in the hands of the other MACUSA members, he still manages to lock eyes with Percival and pleads “You know better than anyone my creatures aren’t dangerous! That man’s death has nothing to do with them. I would never put anyone at risk, not my animals nor the muggles.”

Percival sighs, “There are many things you would never do Newt. You’re a peculiar creature yourself.”

Newt feels a clench in his chest. Percival doesn’t mean…? So he just apologizes again, “I’m sorry” in a whisper.

Where are the words of unconditional love so carefully said in the letters? Where was the warmth in his eyes shared meaningfully in all their past glances? Where was the innocently warm, safe, enthusiastic embrace he had come to expect with each encounter no matter how fleeting? He must have messed up something awful.

“They found an obscura in your case, Newt. You must know how bad this looks. Even if the obscura itself really is harmless as you think it is, with all the other escaped beasts coordinating so well with the actions of the Grindelwald fanatics, MACUSA is simply convinced you’re trying to expose the magical world to the nomaj. You’ve gotten us this much closer to war.” Percival sounds so resigned, so disappointed, and it makes Newt absolutely wilt.

“But you know that’s not true. It was an accident. You know I would never-” Newt’s voice wobbles.

“You’ve kept plenty of secrets from me in the past Newt. Important secrets. Who’s to say I know you at all.”

Newt’s brows furrow and he sets his gaze away from Percival’s eyes. “And I apologize for that. But I’ve told you more about myself than I’ve ever told anyone…”

“Truthfully Newt, with all that’s happened here I believe perhaps we should maintain a more professional relationship,” More bitterly he adds “Not to mention the incident from the last time we were together.”

Gellert Grindelwald contains a mischievous smile as Newt pales and gapes.

“I’m so sorry Percival….If that is…If that’s what you want I certainly could not blame you.” His voice is barely above a whisper, “But please, for what we have, o-or had, do not let my animals come to harm.”

Gellert slams his hands on the desk, making Newt flinch, “It’s time to stop expecting special treatment from me. Why should I treat you like a lover when you don’t treat me like one?” Gellert is concerned he just might be in danger of breaking character too much with this aggressive attitude, but he’s so eager to move this forward.

Newt looks sick. His stares at the ground while he fidgets with his coat. Every mannerism expresses desperation and despair but he’s still not crying. Gellert inwardly tsks. He wants to see the scene that he scrounged up from Percival’s most private memories.

He wants to feel the power of rendering a brilliant man like Newt Scamander to that pathetically weakened state, like a beaten child. Graves couldn’t appreciate such a thing.

But he knows the only time Percival has seen Newt cry over anything besides his animals was when he made an attempt to initiate sex. Gellert can work with that; he can turn that into gold.

Newt appeared to struggle with a thought for a moment before asking, “I always meant to treat you like a lover. What can I do to treat you like one, Percival? I-I really don’t want it to end like this. For us. And certainly, not for my animals…”

“You know what people in a relationship are supposed to do, Newt. Come here.” Gellert says gently, his arms opening.

Cautiously, Newt feels a jolt of hope and enters his arms. Gellert squeezes him, breathes him in harshly. He can smell spiced panic. Newt very gently holds on, unsure of the right thing to do. Gellert’s applies eager pressure as his hands trail down to Newt’s bottom.

Hope crushed, Newt violently jerks away, “I can’t. Anything but that.”

Gellert doesn’t allow him to leave the embrace, instead he grips Newt’s head, and in a soft regretful tone speaks into Newt’s ear “It’s the only way, sweet heart. You’re putting me in a dangerous position. I can only provide you with special treatment if you’ve earned it. If you show me you’re still loyal. But if you’re going to be like that….well, I’m afraid if I follow MACUSA’s policies they’ll have you executed. You and your accomplices. It makes me very sad to think what will happen to your animals if-”

“No! P-please Percival. I’ll do anything you would like, please dear, please. You can touch me like lovers are supposed to.” Newt clings to him.

“There’s a good boy. I knew you could do it,” Gellert yanks Newt’s coat off harshly to the ground before he can change his mind.

Newt glances to the coat briefly to make sure Pickett is okay. The bowtruckle looks afraid and uncertain.

Newt turns back to Gellert with wide eyes, “Right now?”

“I can’t wait any longer. I have needs you’ve neglected for too long.”

Gellert man handles Newt until he’s bent over on the desk and quickly pulls down trousers and undergarments, exposing the taut little ass. It happens with such suddenness that it feels surreal to Newt. His body screams for fight or flight but he can do neither.

Gellert wastes no time. He wants penetration hard and fast, rapturously eager to see how Newt reacts to the main event when simple foreplay had destroyed him before. The anticipation is amplified by Graves’ uncommonly large member. He’s already so hard. Newt is, of course, completely soft. Gellert gropes that softness for just a moment and briefly wonders if he’s ever been hard in his life.

“I’ll prepare you, love. Get ready though, it might still hurt,” Gellert says as he kisses Newt’s clothed shoulder. He separates Newt’s cheeks and hastily performs the spell that will make anal sex easier, thumb brushing against the twitching hole.

The magic itself is deeply violating, scooping inside Newt and crackling.

Gellert takes a few seconds to examine Newt’s reaction to the feeling and is surprised at how utterly frozen he is. Then he hears a trickle, looks down, and can barely contain his laughter, “Really, you silly thing. Are you so afraid you pissed yourself?”

It’s like one of the muggle guns used to poach rare beasts has gone off next to Newt’s ear again. He’s never felt so much dread induced adrenaline in all his life and his heart is pounding so hard that he feels its beat push up into his mind. His face is on fire. He can’t feel his legs; Percival and the desk are supporting most of his weight.

Distantly he feels Percival remove all garments waist down. Newt bites his fist and tries to remember to breathe.

“That’s disgusting Newt. Rather impolite too, wouldn’t you say?” Gellert scolds even as he kicks those thin ankles open and aligns his cock.

Mortified, Newt attempts an; “msorry,” through the mouthful of hand he’s biting on.

Gellert massages Newt’s waist in would-be soothing circles, admiring the obscene angle, “It’s not that big of a deal, promise. Maybe you’ll like it.” Percival’s cock struggles with Newt’s tight ring before it gives way and he plunges in beautiful and deep. Unsurprisingly, Newt screams. More from sheer terror or pain Gellert doesn’t know, and it sure as hell doesn’t make him stop.

Gripping those freckled hips tightly, Gellert can feel pronounced full body tremors. He can even feel a rush of jittering magic attempting to repel him along the skin. He recognizes it as intrinsic self-defense magic present in powerful wizards. But it remains tamed by its desperate and gentle master. The control he has over this man Is gloriously dizzying.

Newt tries to think of anything but what’s happening, but everything happens so fast that his mind remains firmly in place with his body. He keeps instinctively beginning to scramble away but must force himself to stop and obey. He has to take it. He needs to give this to Percival. It’s the hardest thing he’s ever done, but Percival’s bruising hands do a good job of pinning him anyway. Scared to death of remaining in place, scared to death of the consequences of not: he feels as though he will die either way. The horrible thing inside him is so large, it’s like he can feel it in throat but it’s just the feeling of choking back tears. Newt’s vision turns white.

At some point during the steady pounding in which Gellert is memorized simply by the in-out of penetration in which Newt’s rim becomes redder and puffier, he realizes the various broken groans and rasping pleas have fallen silent, the tremors have stopped. Newt has gone completely limp. Gellert has accidently killed with less, but he knows this body isn’t dead. He can feel Newt’s slowly steadying pulse with his very cock.

It’s time for a change of position anyway. Gellert flips the pliant body around. Even though his face is wet and blotchy, Newt looks almost peaceful. He’s fainted. Gellert is annoyed as he is pleased with this result.

He casts a wandless wakening spell. A hex originally invented for studying, but came to be more well known for torture. It could keep one awake for days. Newt wouldn’t be able to faint even if his body demanded it.

Coming back into consciousness Newt’s eyes flutter open to see a blurry Percival hovering about him and he feels relief until his memory comes back with the feel of cock buried inside him and he lets out heart breakingly high pitched whine Gellert never imagined Newt could make. Such a talented and brave man reduced to such a pitiful creature, all too easily.

Gellert keeps thrusting and Newt looks at him straight in the eyes while he again begins to hyperventilate. He’s lost all sense of shame and modesty, reduced to begging with those startled shining eyes which steadily fill with tears and overflow. His freckles become more pronounced the redder his face becomes. He’s fighting so hard to get oxygen and shaking like a leaf.

Gellert slows his hips, rocking with sensual languidness as he begins to undo the buttons of Newt’s shirt, “What’s with that face? You look like you want to say something.” He reaches out to caress Newt’s check, rub his lips with his thumb.

Newt takes the hand on his face and clutches it with wild need, like a trapped animal latching onto the bars of a cage so it might resist being pulled out towards more torture.

“Why, this…” he tries so hard to choke out words between desperate gulps of air, “Do you h-h…ah…h-hate me n-now?”

“No, doll,” Gellert uses his free hand to feel up the newly uncovered skin, scrapes a nail against an already thoroughly pebbled nipple, kisses his neck, “I love you more than ever. I just need you to be good.”

Something about that forces an insane burst of laughter to break out of Newt. It quickly descends into unadulterated sobbing, “I..ah, love you, t-too,” Newt covers his face and just cries and cries, curling in on himself best as possible while being fucked.

Gellert looks at him with sincere awe.

He’s struck with a primal urge to mark and claim. He briefly forgets he’s supposed to be Percival Graves as his teeth clamp down on Newt’s neck and he sucks vigorously. Newt twitches violently.

Gellert can tell Newt isn’t getting any oxygen with the way he’s panicking and carrying on, so he figures he better hurry things up lest he actual manage to kill him. Without the ability to pass out he won’t stop the fear induced hyperventilating any time soon.

He brutalizes the pace purely with the goal of coming, which makes Newt’s sobs to break into a raw scream again although it was not Gellert’s intention. On a whim, he pulls out just in time to cover the large deep purpling red mark on Newt’s neck with his seed.

He tucks himself back into his pants and makes sure his appearance is just as put together as it was before he destroyed Newt Scamander.

Newt just keeps crying, though quieter now. Gellert wonders if he realizes it’s over. “Come on now, deep breaths. That’s it. In. Out.”

He sits at his desk chair, viewing Newt like a piece of art, careful not to touch. He truly wants the man to calm down now and hopes to offer the same comfort the real Percival provided, “I’m so proud of you Newt. You did so well. Everything is going to be okay now.”

And strangely, Gellert wants to mean it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eventually this is a major reason Newt later realize Percival isn’t Percival at all. Assuming I continue, there will some major hurt/comfort + the internal moments when Newt realizes it’s not Percival, and the finding of Percival. When Percival regains health and interrogates Grindelwald he of course taunts him with what he did to Newt who doesn’t want to tell Percival at all. Will also ideally feature some BAMF Newt.


	3. Suspicion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt tries to put his emotions on hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the great feedback!! It really makes me happy and keeps me going.
> 
> I don't have much of what I told you guys to expect in the previous notes yet, but I was eager to update. I'm thinking at the very very least 1,000 words per chapter isn't too bad.
> 
> I want to get through reading the screenplay before continuing some of my ideas.
> 
> Will update again very soon!
> 
> -  
> Warning for this chapter: Brief flashback of non-con
> 
> There’s of course some canon-divergence regarding the whens and hows of the interrogation and death sentencing. But besides that, everything happens just like the film. Newt is going into hero mode, temporarily repressing his own need to heal so that he can save others.

 

Gellert can plainly see Newt isn’t calming down. 

Although, he has managed to wiggle his way off the desk and find his way to the worn blue coat crinkled on the ground. Pathetically unable to cloth himself with trembling fingers and trembling magic, he has merely been clutching it to his face as though he might escape his breakdown by inhaling its fibers.

It's sort of endearing. But more than that, it's downright intoxicating to have such an impact on someone.

Gellert stares ruefully for a second longer before he discreetly leaves to retrieve an illegally potent calming drought from the medical wing. He feels almost foolish for getting carried without the foresight to realize the potion would be necessary; he simply cannot return Scamander to his cell in this state without raising questions. While there, he gives the executioners a nod which they return with complacent smiles. They are his people. They understand what needs to be done for the greater good. 

He finds Scamander in the same hunched over position when he returns. Cautiously, Gellert approaches, kneels in front of him. Newt doesn’t react. Prying his fingers between the coat and Newt’s face, he lifts his chin and is nearly startled by Newt’s pliancy, although his eyes are tightly closed.

Gellert sighs, “drink.” He tips the cold blue vial against bitten-red lips. Still unsuccessfully trying to calm his breathing, Newt only manages to violently cough out the liquid as soon as it’s forced down his throat.

“Shhh,” Gellert soothes, “Try again. You’ll feel _much_ better.”

This time Newt partially takes hold of the vial himself, eager to get back in control of this body, eager to believe.

With each slow sip the shaking lessens and his breathing evens. When Gellert pulls the vial away, Newt opens his eyes. His glassy gaze is lidded and unfocused. Gellert takes the opportunity to help Newt dress, partially with magic, partially with hands to have one last feel at his skin.

Gellert enjoys the thrill of being the last one to touch someone before death. He enjoys being touched when he might be facing death soon himself. It’s a wild and shallow theft of virginity. Intriguingly, the thrill is not satisfying. He would prefer to see Scamander again.

“There, feel better?” Gellert steadily helps lift Newt to his feet, who nods meekly. The chains to restrain on the trip to the cell are reapplied, and the sleepless hex is removed when Gellert is mostly certain any natural urge to faint has been subsided.

“My friends? My case?” Newt murmurs wistfully as he tries to clear his mind and vision from the strong potency of the calming drought.

As Gellert releases Newt into the hands of the waiting aurors outside his office he says, “I’ll see what I can do.”

By the time he’s tossed back into the cell with the rest of the kind people he’s gotten into this mess, the potion has steadily worked him until he’s thoughtless. Able to lay on the cool ground, it lures him to unconsciousness.

\--

With wide eyes Tina and Jacob watch their once energetic companion fall like a rag doll to their cell floor. Tina yells at the people who delivered Newt to them, but they vanish before she can get in a word.

They rush to his side, Jacob gently turning him to see his face, “Buddy, you alright?”

Tina looks bewildered, “What could they possibly have done?” She sees the hint of red peeking over his collar and wonders if MACUSA has reinstated outdated leeching techniques in interrogation.

They stay near, but give him a respectful amount of space. Jacob makes a pillow of his coat to relieve him of the cold hard ground.

\--

Roughly only a couple hours later and the heavy silence is broken by Newt jolting awake as though he had been a millisecond from falling to his death in a dream.

Having no idea how long he’s been out, Newt’s first instinct is to seek Jacob and Tina– they’re both looking at him with concern. Newt is overcome with relief. They’re alive.

Remembering why he’s relieved comes back all too soon – remembering what Percival said, what he promised, the things he _did._ Newt pales and forcibly fights back all thoughts of that specific part of the encounter. He tells himself he has much more dire things to think about for now.

However, it’s impossible to miss Newt’s initial demeaner. Tina and Jacob give each other a weary look.

“Newt…what happened?” Tina asks softly, non-patronizingly. She tries to reach out a comforting hand, but allows it to fall back to her side when she notices Newt subtly twitch away from the touch.

Swallowing, Newt stands and fills himself with mission-intensity, “Mr. Graves was willing to hear me out. We will hopefully have all this sorted out soon.”

Just then, a small band of people come including two women in white coats. They’re to be executed after all. _Did Percival lie?_

\--

With incredible luck, and the help of Pickett, Queenie, and the Swooping Evil, they break free. The adrenaline of the situation and the lack of seeing Percival in the escapades keeps Newt focused.

They can’t return to the Goldstein’s home, so they apparate to a distant muggle building rooftop with a pigeon coop. It isn’t until they have this chance to regroup and think about their next move that Newt catches his breath and his mind wonders.

He lets out a quiet shuddering breath, trying to keep thoughts of Percival on hold. He is mostly unsuccessful in this moment of respite. Percival’s face when he was forced out of unconsciousness and still being violated springs to his mind, his expression uncharacteristically menacing and controlling. Newt thinks about what Percival had promised. Had Newt not been good enough?

Queenie tears her gaze away from Jacob as she lets out a gasp, her hands immediately clasping over her mouth as she stares at Newt. Newt darts her a startled look, realizing what she must have read off him.

“Oh, sweetie,” She says with unrestrained affection and hurt, her eyes wet with empathy.

Newt stiffens. His face turns beat red and he’s never felt more humiliated, especially with Jacob and Tina now shooting curious looks. “Please, don’t,” he whispers quietly to Queenie.

“Didn’t mean it,” Queenie looks away, embarrassed and guilty.

Jacob’s brows furrow intensely, “You alright, Newt?”

“Yes,” Newt gives Jacob a stuttering but genuine smile, “thank you Jacob,” and goes to stand at the ledge of the building with Tina.

Tina appears to have the grace not to inquire further, as well as a solemn look towards Queenie. Newt wonders vaguely if she’s experienced this reaction from Queenie before after she’s read someone.

However, she can’t seem to restrain herself from saying, “The Graves I know would never do what he did to us.” with such confidence that Newt can’t help but agree, and consider his perception of the Percival Graves that betrayed him.


	4. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth is revealed, Newt is exhausted, Graves is located, and Grindelwald loves to taunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for this chapter: Graphic mention of past sexual abuse
> 
> Thanks again for the feedback!! 
> 
> The face-off against Grindelwald may feel a bit rushed and skipped over, but that’s just to avoid being redundant, assuming all of you have seen the movie and/or read the screenplay hahah
> 
> This was getting a bit longer than I imagined, so I figured I would go ahead and post a chapter even though we’re STILL not quite yet to the Percival/Newt reunion.

 

Newt is in the subway attempting to coax Credence back to stability when a burst of light shoots from the darkness, throwing him backwards with a sharp pain that knocks the wind out of him. Newt knows who it is without having to look. Heart racing, he scrambles to his feet, wand readied.

For a split second, they make eye contact, his attacker’s eyes burn with intense purpose and Newt has a fearful desire to submit. The urge confounds him. Gellert smirks knowingly. Newt dodges behind a pillar, shakes himself out of it, and casts spell after spell with determination. Seeing what this Graves has done, what he’s doing - He knows this _can’t_ be his Percival. He feels elated with the revelation as he does disgusted and stupid.

Newt is a notably talented wizard in more ways than one. He gets more real-life experience with offensive and defensive magic while rescuing his creatures than most Aurors do in a life time. Not to mention all the odds and ends his war hero of a brother insisted he learn. Even so, the imposter deflects each of his spells as though bored.

Finally having enough, Gellert casts a spell rapt with truly astounding power. Newt is lifted high into the air and lands bruising against the train tracks. He had been attempting to hide the full reality of his power under the guise of Graves. If the situation weren’t currently so dire he would have relished a duel with a wizard that could bring out his full potential.

But now that he has Newt on his back, Gellert is filled with a familiar urge to conquer. As Newt makes the tiniest motion to rise, Gellert lashes out with his magic, whipping Newt back into place. He aims to punish, not kill. He keeps whipping with increasing vigor.

Newt writhes beneath the onslaught. He tries to grit his teeth against the pain, but the imposter is unrelenting. A familiar sensation of helplessness washes over him and he cries out.

The sound of Newt being beaten triggers the sick pain inside of Credence, and he sobs as he unsuccessfully tries to contain the obscurus.

Gellert finally stops when he is broken out of his vengeful trance by Credence’s transformation.

Newt goes limp for but a moment before desperation kicks back in and they both continue in pursuit of Credence. Tina soon makes an appearance and Newt encourages her as she speaks soothingly to the tortured boy. He’s filled with such profound admiration for her, his eyes shining. She can do this, she’s so close—

A terrible shock shoots through Newt as MACUSA aurors brutally bombard Credence with spells.

At this, the imposter spews forth some philosophy that only a Grindelwald fanatic would say. The aurors attempt to apprehend him, but they’re fighting a losing battle. But he’s distracted, and Newt takes the opportunity to sick the swooping evil on him, bind him with a spell.

Holding his breath, Newt casts _revelio._

Newt’s barely contains his surprise. He expected a Grindelwald fantatic, but not necessarily Grindelwald himself.

As Grindelwald is carried off, he’s able to force to a stop in front of Newt, and manically jest “Will we die, just a little?”

And that was the look. The face he saw peering through Percival when. . .

Gellert laughs at Newt’s expression, gives him a hidden wink.

Newt can only stare, stunned.

The only thing to tear Newt out of his bemusement is the wisp of black smoke drifting behind the debris, unfaltering. It fills him with enough hope to put Grindelwald to the back of his mind and do what needs to be done.

\--

Newt says he has some unfinished business and would like to stay in New York a while longer. Tina and Queenie are eager to offer their hospitality, welcoming Newt to stay as their guest for long as he likes. Besides, he’s certainly easy to hide from their landlord, spending most of his time in the suit case anyway.

Dawn has bled into noon by the time the trio return to the Goldstein abode, its contents mildly ransacked from what must’ve been the manhunt conducted by Aurors sent to bring them back to the executioners’ hands.

They haven’t slept since Newt and Jacob took off out the window. Recollecting how fast this all happened sends Newt’s mind reeling. This time he really does sleep in the guest bed, collapsing on it still clothed.

Before drifting off, he murmers, “Do you think Percival is. . .” his eyes flutter, and he’s gone. He barely catches Queenie reassuring him Percival is almost certainly fine.

\--

There’s barely a hint of dawn when Tina receives a persistent pigeon. Queenie isn’t in the bed next to hers (their room mimics the guest bedroom setup) but she doesn’t hear the rustling of breakfast being made. She has an idea where she might be.

Tina quietly goes about her business getting ready for work, eager to begin the task MACUSA has assigned her to. The first case back on the investigative team is of course to locate the real Percival Graves.

She sees Queenie leaning up against the guest bedroom frame, the door slightly ajar to reveal Newt, mumbling and jerking in his sleep. She’s frowning deeply. Her eyes are red, as though she’s woken up crying.

“So,” Tina begins awkwardly, “What happened to him?”

“Oh Teen…I want to talk to you about it so much but it’s not my place. He might tell you in his own time,” looking troubled she adds, “or he might not.”

Tina doesn’t want to assume anything. She doesn’t want to think about it, even though she _knows_ what the circumstance generally is when Queenie reacts like this. It happens more often than one might expect, _far too often,_ and Queenie’s reaction is always the same. All she wants to feel is her rage for Gellert Grindelwald.

“I will tell you this though,” Queenie looks to her brave sister hopefully, “Finding Percival Graves is the best thing we can do for him right now.”

Now that does make Tina raise an eyebrow.

\--

 It doesn’t take long to locate him. Graves isn’t terribly well hidden. Grindelwald must have been very confident. Still, she’s the first to find him in the attic of his own home. Unlocking a grand armoire, she walks down a few steps and illuminates the area to reveal a small room containing tables and cabinets scattered with various magical and non-magical instruments of torture. She briefly thinks of this place as a sick and twisted opposite to Newt’s expansions filled with love and nurturing.

Percival Graves is tied to a chair, unshaven, unconscious, covered in dried blood – but alive.

A team carries him off to be examined and treated.

\--

Graves walks down a vast and dark MACUSA hall towards the interrogation room where Gellert is being held for questioning.

They tell him he needs more time to recover, but he’ll hear nothing of it. The physical wounds were healed without a problem. Just a few gashes, a few broken bones, a few missing finger nails. The damage caused from the imperius and cruciatus curses had been tended to with the best modern magic could provide, but would require years of treatment before the lingering effects would begin to diminish. Or so, they say. No one quite realizes the intensity of Graves' will and what it has pulled him through in the past. He did not get to where he is today without already living through many of the tortures Grindelwald performed.

Although eager to confront Grindelwald, he may have humored them and stayed in the hospital wing longer were it not for his informant bringing him news of _Newton Scamander._

For a moment, he’s overwhelmed with pride - apparently, it was Newt, his love, who had ultimately caused Grindelwald’s defeat. But the feeling is soon stifled by rage as it dawns on him that Gellert would know about him and Newt. Will of steel or no, Grindelwald invaded his mind. He had felt him tear all memories out of him one way or another, all the better to impersonate him.

A bundle of guards surround the room.

Graves enters calmly, takes a seat. He’s thoroughly annoyed to notice how the two Aurors inside the room can’t completely hide their nervousness, despite the fact Grindelwald is wrapped so tightly in chains and binding spells it’s a wonder he can breathe or move at all.

The dark wizard cocks his head and grins. Utterly amused, he exclaims “My Percival, don’t you clean up nicely!” and barks a laugh. “I must say I prefer it when you look a wreck.”

Graves doesn’t react to the taunt in the slightest. In fact, he smirks right back “You’re my prisoner now, Gellert.”

Grindelwald displays a mockery of surprise, “Is that so? I suppose we’ll see how long that lasts.”

“You’re going to give me a list of the people responsible for the attacks in Europe acting under your orders” Graves demands.

“Ugh,” Gellert rolls his eyes, “but that’s so boring. You know what I would rather talk about? That wiry plaything of yours. The one your mind would never shut up about. Newt.”

Graves grits his teeth, his jaw tightening. Gellert knows he’s struck a nerve.

“Mr. Scamander has nothing to do with information you need to give me.”

“Oooh that’s cold,” Gellert feigns a shiver, “I would say our dear Newt has a lot to do with everything! Why so disinterested in talking about him? Bored of him, ready to toss him aside? I’d say that’s rather shallow.   _I_ certainly had a fun time playing with him.”

The two guards in the room cast each other curious looks. 

Graves heart begins to race, but he hides the building stress gracefully, “Is getting defeated in a Subway station your idea of fun? You wouldn’t have possibly found time to lay a hand on him while he was putting you in your place down there.”

Gellert tsks, “Didn’t they tell you? I had a nice long one-on-one interrogation session in your office.”

Graves swallows dryly and expends a glance towards one of the Aurors. She nods ruefully.

“What did you do?” Graves eyes burn.

“Ah now I see a bit of passion in you! Maybe you’re not so done with Newt after all. I did him a favor. I made him _face his fears_.”

Graves’ stomach drops, “You _what?”_ He grips the table, containing the urge to destroy this scum of a man with great difficulty.

Grindelwald looks gleeful at the reaction, “Oh, I’m sure you’re eager to hear all about it! Since you never had the courage or the kindness to do it yourself. I think I did you a favor as well, Percival. He thought it was you the whole time, after all. Maybe next time he’ll let you do it for real.”

Graves has never looked at someone with a more poisonous look, and it makes the Aurors at his side almost as afraid of Graves as they are Grindelwald. “I knew you were sick, Gellert. But I didn’t think you were the kind of sick that. . .  _rapes._ ”

Gellert looks genuinely offended, “This was no _'rape'_. I gave Scamander an opportunity that he agreed to. He had a chance to appease someone in power to preserve what is important to him. An exceptionally slim chance, to be certain – but a chance none-the-less, and he took it. Doesn't that make you proud? And I admit, it wouldn’t have been nearly as admirable or interesting were it not for the knowledge of the memory I pulled from you. A natural and severe fear of sex? How strange, how quaint.”

Grindelwald appears to be relishing the memory, blinding Graves with rage, “Truthfully I never would have given him that particular opportunity if I were anyone but you, Percival. How many people could possibly desire that awkward and inexperienced creature? But you, I know for a fact want him so deeply it's _driving you mad._ Hard not to act on such a thing, being in your state of mind.”

Graves needs to collect himself, _he has to._ He takes a deep breath, “You can’t bait me, Gellert.” The look in Grindelwald’s eye tell him he’s taking that as a challenge, “You’re just lying to attempt to unhinge me, but it’s useless. You of all people should know I do not succumb easily. Back to the attacks in Europe—“

“Ah! You want me to get graphic, is that it, my perverted Percival?” Grindelwald’s eyes grow manic, he bares his teeth, “I understand, details, details! Lovely Newt was gloriously submissive as I speared him with _your_ cock right on _your_ desk. He was sobbing and hyperventilating, but through it all he tells me he loves me! Isn’t that wild?! Doesn’t that sound like him?!”

Graves wants to vomit. He makes a motion with his hand, and before Grindelwald can continue his rant, he’s being blasted with spells until he’s subdued.

Under special circumstances, they are permitted to use the Unforgivable Curses against dark wizards. They obtain the information they need from Grindelwald.

Graves is pale and sweating by the time he leaves the room with one of the Aurors.

He asks her, “Where is Newton Scamander currently residing?”

“The Goldstein residence,” she replies efficiently.

She follows him down the hall, keeping his pace with difficulty before cautiously asking, “Should we add sexual assault to the criminal record, sir?”

Graves says nothing, disapparating as soon as the opportunity arises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love receiving comments! Anything that strikes your fancy, just let me know.
> 
> Percival is so close to seeing Newt again.


	5. Stunted Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queenie is a considerate host. She's weary of the broken and unsteady emotions both Percival and Newt are experiencing, but she has hope they'll help each other through this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Dealing with trauma, fairly vague allusions to past sexual abuse.
> 
> Prepare for comfort and love. But uh, also more pain. (Mostly pain, knowing me.)
> 
> Really happy about the feedback I'm getting!! I know I make a lot of mistakes though, so I'm still seeking for someone who would like to be friends and beta read for each other.
> 
> Soo, I really love Queenie. She's so great to write her in a scene since can provide incredible insight on the people around her. I inserted a few headcanony things about her relationship with legilimency. I can't find any source on it being a natural skill, but I like to think she's just such an incredible empath that it came naturally. Following the empath train of thought, I have her sensing general emotions more than exact thoughts. The mind is so complex - I feel like she picks up on vague visuals, thoughts, needs, desires, repressed or not. But even without legilimency I think she would be just fantastic at reading people.

Newt awakes to the sound of gentle clicking. Blearily opening his eyes, he makes out Pickett tapping against his lapel. His leaves seem droopy as though he were a tiny sad puppy.

Newt quickly notices the daylight, it’s perhaps already noon. He can hardly believe how long he’s slept and he’s immediately in a panic – it’s been far too long since the creatures have been attended to! Focused on the friends in need waiting for him, he descends into the suitcase without giving a thought to anything else.

Everyone seems alright. They’re less annoyed than he expected. Many of them give him uncommonly strange looks as he walks towards him, sniffing the air. Some of the more sentimental creatures are reluctant to leave his side. The niffler burrows its way inside his pocket as soon as he enters (he never has spare change). Sometimes they’re like this when they don’t see him often enough. Or perhaps they’re missing Frank and Jacob’s company as much as he is.

One of the graphorns in particular has a hard time letting him go. Its soft tentacles encircle him before latching on firmly and letting out a bubbly whine. Newt returns the affection calmingly, “Oh, it’s alright, you’re okay.”

The occamys, the fussy attention-hungry babies, are perhaps the least forgiving. Although they have a consistent supply of insects available to them right there in the nest as well as Dougal’s fondness for caring for them, they become quite displeased if they aren’t coddled every now and then by their mother.

As they wrap around his arms and feel safe once again he apologizes, “Mummy didn’t mean to leave you alone so long.” The occammy that Jacob helped hatch looks around expectantly. It breaks his heart.

They will take a while to console. Newt sinks down to take a seat on the ground in front of the nest, eyes shining. There’s nothing to distract his mind now. Dougal slowly approaches, and looks at him with extraordinarily deep concern, big eyes swimming with bright blue.

“What?” Newt asks a bit defensively although he immediately feels bad for his tone.

Dougal isn’t dissuaded. He slowly hugs Newt, careful not to alarm the occamys. The demiguise’s eyes fade from blue back to brown. As if on cue, Newt is sniffling, tears rapidly painting his freckles. He wants to rub at his face to try to make it stop, but he has his arms full of comforting fur and feathers.

They stay like that for some time.

\--

Newt emerges from the case, and gratefully takes Queenie up on her offer to use their facilities. He’s in no mood to shower in one of the habitats today. He feels rather disgusting and a bit embarrassed by it, not sure if he’s showered since the boat.

He doesn’t especially want to look in the mirror, but he does once he’s shed his clothes to see how dirty he really is. He feels like he’s covered in a fine layer of grime from all the recent happenings.

He unconsciously holds his breath when he notices the mark on his neck, which was mostly hidden by his collar. He’s so covered in bruises, aches, and cuts from all he’s been up to lately that he didn’t even register it was there.  Against the inside of this dress shirt, and somewhat against his skin where the mark is brightest, there’s a. . .residue. . .of somesort. . .

He really does vomit then, making it to toilet just in time. There’s not much to come up, but he retches so hard it makes him feel faint and feverish. His first shaking priority is to get under the stream of the shower, hot as possible. He haphazardly magics his clothes to wash themselves in the sink.

Everything is a blur until the water begins to run cold. He realizes his short nails have dug rather harshly into his forearms where he was latching onto himself.

Newt tells himself he needs to be done feeling like this, and takes sighing breaths before performing minor healing charms alone his body. At last, he looks in the mirror to point his wand at his neck. It doesn’t immediately heal. It doesn’t feel much different at all.

Dumbfounded, Newt tries again. Nothing changes. This shouldn’t be so difficult – he’s more proficient at healing than perhaps any other magic. More adept at healing animals, but still. He tries again with vigor, and this time the mark itself seems to lash back with its own magic, his wand zapped out of his hand.

Grindelwald must have done something to him. This isn’t normal, it’s like his own neck is a cursed object. Newt hunches over, rubs his face harshly.

\--

Queenie, of course, generally isn’t surprised easily. But she nearly drops the tea tray she’s bringing to the table when Mr. Graves apparates in her living room.

He looks at her with startling intensity, “To avoid your landlord.”

“Right. . .” Queenie breathes out as she watches him look around her home purposefully, “I’m real happy to see you’re so well, Mr. Graves.”

“Thank you,” he says with completely disinterested politeness. He sees a few of Newt’s possessions in the guest room, but no Newt. “Where is Mr. Scamander?”

“Shower.”

Queenie is taken aback when Graves makes a beeline towards the bathroom. Before he can put his hand on the knob, she puts herself between him and the door.

“Ah, don’t you think we ought to wait for him to finish?” she asks with the hint of a scold.

An awkward moment of equal intimidation passes by between them before Graves rakes his hand through his hair, seeming surprised by his own actions, “Of course. It’s just, my business with him is rather urgent.”

“Oh, I know.” She offers him coffee. He looks like he needs it.

She knows he’s worse than he looks; his head is positively pounding, and he could probably sleep for days. Worst yet, there’s a terrible lingering gash in his mind, as if someone has tortured something precious and left it abused and vicious.

He asks for black coffee but a subtle thought tells her he likes it sweet. She doesn't press it. As he anxiously sips at the drink, the chant on his mind rings loud and clear: _‘Is it true?’_

“I owe your sister a great debt. I hear she helped Mr. Scamander take down Grindelwald and was even the one to find me. I’m pleased she was reinstated as an Auror so quickly. I never did support her demotion. Even now she's hard at work on the Grindelwald cases.” His mind couldn't be further from the topic, but Queenie appreciates the acknowledgement.

She smiles over her own cup of creamed coffee, “Tina and Newt are both really somethin’,”

After another moment of silence, she excuses herself from the table. Out of Graves sight and down the short hall, she gently knocks on the bathroom door.

“Y-yes?” Newt is only beginning to dress himself, “Terribly sorry for taking so long.”

Queenie keeps her voice as low as possible, “Newt dear, you have a visitor I want you to be prepared for. Mr. Graves is here.”

The door flies open, “Percival?!”

There’s the sound of a chair scooted back hastily in the next room.

“Yes - are you sure you're ready? I could perhaps send him away, for now.” Truthfully, she doubts she could if she tried.

Newt blinks slowly. Is he ready? Does Queenie know something about himself he doesn't?

“Um, yes,” He offers before heading towards the living room, clothes a bit askew.

The air stands still as he comes to face Percival, _the real Percival._

 _“Newt. You're alright,”_ Percival exhales with relief and immediately wraps his arms around him.

“What?” Newt asks with half a laugh, tears of relief in the corner of his eyes, “That's what I should be saying to you.”

Newt reciprocates the embrace with a strange weakness in his grip. He is baffled by the sudden lack of comfort he feels being in his arms. Before he can reflect on it further, Percival backs up and looks towards Queenie, just a touch bashful.

“Perhaps It was inept of me not to inform you Newt and I are involved.”

Newt smiles, “Oh she's known for quite some time now I’m sure.”

Percival looks at Newt with surprise. Normally he's very private about this sort of thing, perhaps even more so than Graves himself, “You told her rather quickly. You must be fast friends,”

Newt grins, still possessing a scientist's excitement when it comes to Queenie's abilities, “She's a legilimens, actually. But we are fast friends.”

Queenie’s heart fills with warmth at his words.

   
“Just a natural-born. Can't help it Mr. Graves Sir, I hope you don't mind,” She gives him an innocent smile to mask her nervousness. Not everyone takes kindly to the revelation, especially those involved in law and politics.

Graves raises his eyebrows, “We could use someone like you on the force.”

“Oh no, Tina’s the career girl,” Queenie laughs, but she is refreshed by Graves’ response, and can’t help but ruffle under the praise.

Before, she never knew anything about Graves beyond the fact he’s Tina’s boss. The few times she saw him she never got a good read on him. Usually thoughts and feelings came flying out of people without her even trying. Graves stood out for the fact he seemed to consistently have a mild occlumency shield up. She never found that suspicious though – most of the powerful MACUSA agents s seemed to have this shield up for fear of dark wizards. Or perhaps talented paparazzi. Seraphina’s mind was like steel wall. Luckily, so long as she doesn't actively pry into these minds, her abilities stay unnoticed. It could get her into a lot of trouble to say the least.

So far, Graves is making a good impression. Even when he instinctively begins to implement occulmancy again, he attempts to keep it down – for what – politeness? To prove he’s trustworthy? 

Still, Graves attempt to muffle how badly he wants to get Newt alone. She doesn’t want to leave Newt’s side, she really doesn’t. She can hear the thoughts he’s been so forcefully pushing to the back of Newt's mind begin to force their way to the forefront in reaction to Graves’ embrace.

Unless it’s related to magizoology, Newt’s mind mumbles just as badly as he does when he’s talking. She hears a faint, _‘Maybe this won’t be as easy as I thought.’_ She second-hand captures his emotion; horrendously stifling, he pines so hard for the comfort of Percival’s embrace, his presence, his words – but there’s an underlying fear he can’t shake. Anguished frustration.

Deeming Graves trustworthy, she gives him what he wants. She decides to visit Tina at MACUSA, perhaps pick up some work hours until they leave together.

Before heading out the door, she gives Newt a meaningful look, “Give it time, sweetie.” He nods in quick succession and ignores Graves’ confused look.

They're such a sweet couple. She hopes they'll be able to talk, and begin to heal.

\--

They take a seat on the sofa, leaning against each other. It’s rather cold, but the weakening fire is helping fend it off. Queenie left a scented candle lit. Newt looks out the window towards the faint sound of automobiles and notices the sky still looks thick and grey. He wonders if it’s almost cold enough for snow.

Newt finds the atmosphere more solemn that he would like. They’re victorious, aren’t they? Grindelwald is behind bars, Percival is alive, and based on a few observations, Newt suspects there may yet even be hope for a living Credence.

Percival watches Newt watch the window, notes how his eyes reflect the grey. Notes just how much he missed them. Slowly, Percival brushes a bit of Newts hair to the side, keeps his hand gently on his face. Newt turns to Percival and almost looks at him. Instead, he closes his eyes, leans into his palm.

“I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time, Newt. Thinking about you helped me through everything,” Percival swallows. Newt is perhaps the only person he’s been this romantic towards in his life, “I owe you the world for what you’ve done for me. I missed you.”

Newt bites his bottom lip harshly, before responding, his voice strained, “Oh, I've missed you too. I’ve been missing you before I even knew what _he_ did, a-and then when I found out, I thought he might have killed you. Or worse.”

The thought of the man, especially mentioned by Newt, sends Graves seething. He’s not weak when it comes to controlling emotion, but he can’t recall ever being so enraged. Perhaps the unforgivable curses have affected his self control. He goes rigged, grip on Newt unconsciously tightening.

Startled, Newt finally looks at him. Graves forces himself to calm.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just returned from interrogating Grindelwald. They told me to wait, but how could I?” Graves pauses for a moment, studying Newt’s features carefully, “He told me some unsettling things _._ About you. Probably just to bait me.”

Newt turns away, his skewed dress shirt becoming slightly more undone, “Oh, um, yes. I’m most certain he would try to um, unnerve you.”

Percival catches a glimpse of red peeking above Newt’s collar. Seeing where Percival’s eyes trailed, Newt defensively lifts the collar, hastily makes sure all the buttons are back in place.

“What was that? Did he. . .?” Percival’s heart skips a beat.

“No, Percival. It’s just a usual peck from one of the creatures.” Newt is all too quick to respond.

Newt busies himself by rustling through the coat pocket draped over the chair, pulling out his journal, as he often does. He ignores Percival’s incredulous gaze.

Grave’s rage seems to peak with the pent-up anger from Grindelwald’s rantings combined with the indignancy of Newt’s obvious lie. Without thinking, Percival takes Newt by surprise and tugs open the top of the collar.

It reveals a large and painful looking spotted bruise. Human teethe marks are evident, intense enough to leave impossibly deep colors. He accidentally brushes it with the movement.

Newt cringes in on himself, hand clasping over the mark. He shoots up to distance himself from Percival.

Newt stares at him with wide eyes, backing up slowly, before mumbling “I’ve had about enough of being touched against my wishes, thank you.”

He accios his possessions, and vanishes.

Percival curses himself, eyes wet.   
  
 _So it's true._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the exact opposite of what Queenie hoped would happen. She even left a calming scented candle, come on :,(
> 
> Not sure what direction I'll take this - slow and steady healing? MORE PAIN? We'll see. After all, Grindelwald is going to bust out at some point...


End file.
